


Playing in the Snow

by yesyesno



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Biting, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6762109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesyesno/pseuds/yesyesno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that scene in Season Three episode one where the sexual tension is crazy between Michael and that girl from the wedding (according to the credits and IMDB I think her name is Charlotte Murray) well this is about that.<br/>Long time lurker, first time poster, please be nice :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and settings all lovingly borrowed from the show, they are not mine and I will give them back.
> 
> Bits of key dialogue pinched from the show because how can I do it any better than the show writers? 
> 
> *any dialogue that is not mine i will put in italics*
> 
> This is the first thing I've ever posted on here, constructive criticism is welcome and I apologise for any grammar fuck ups/typos, this dirty little thing just popped out after I watched the episode :)

Tommy's rules had been explicit this morning, no fighting, no racing, no gambling, no robbing and no coke, but Michael reckoned what with the other rules being broken on Tommy's orders, he could get away with letting a pretty girl play in the snow for a while. Just as long as nobody saw, for what the eyes don't see, the heart can't grieve over.

He ushered the girl into one of the smaller parlours off the main hall, she already had the product, bought and paid for and looked at him with a mix of curiosity, lust and fear in her big doe eyes. She was a pretty little thing, all creamy aristocratic skin and dark hair shining in rigid waves just begging to be tousled up by his hands. He left her to sit on the velvet chaise as he firmly shut the door to keep out any prying eyes before joining her at the table where she dumped out the white powdery contents of the small blue glass vial she was clutching. He noticed her hands were shaking slightly and a slight sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead (if there was one thing Michael Gray was good at, it was noticing things). She looked like the sort of girl who maybe took a delicate bump off of a tiny, intricate gold spoon, not the sort who chopped lines and rolled notes to snort it off the table, no matter how fine the mahogany of said table was, and he let her know exactly what he thought. ' _Go on then, cut the snow_ ' he said teasingly, staring her down across the table. In fairness she didn't break his gaze or simperingly ask him to cut it, instead clumsily carving out a fat sluggish line and defiantly telling him that she called it Tokyo.

' _In London, we were told you were all gangsters_ ' she murmured, still kneeling at the table, still staring him out. It clicked in Michael's head that all this girl wanted was a bit of rough. Well, if that was what the lady wanted, who was he to deny her? In his experience though, posh girls were like thoroughbred horses, wilful, stubborn and easily spooked so he knew he had to approach this one gently. Thoughtfully pulling on his cigarette, he replied _'So that's why you got on a train to dirty old Birmingham, for a dirty old night_ ' She looked down at the table then, smiling slightly before looking back up at him through those long, sooty lashes.

' _You don't look like the others_ ' she pointed out.

 _'That's the idea. I put it all together but I don't partake_ ' he paused to pull out his wallet _'I've got a bright future you see, mapped out - but you want me to be like them, don't you?_ ' He had her attention like a fish on a hook now. See, although he pulled off the part of respectable young businessman well enough, under the perfectly cut suit, clean shaven face and slick hair, he was all Shelby, capable of the same savagery and violence and dangerous allure as the rest of his family. And if she wanted a brief encounter with a brummie bad boy, he'd have her begging for it before the night was over. She was telling him all about her bright future, her almost-engagement to her military suitor and how she too had it all mapped out, all with a knowing glint in her eye. She was all subtext, flirty glances and the smug grin of a cat that was about to get the cream playing on her lips. Michael handed her the rolled up bank note and she sniffed up her line, gasping and coughing as the harsh crystalline powder hit the back of her throat, giggling as she handed him back the note. ' _Nah, keep it_ ' he told her.

She boldly looked him in the eye as she answered ' _As if I were a whore?_ '. Her eyes were all naked lust now, kindling the fire in his own belly. ' _Well, if that's the game you wanna play ..._ ' He tried his best to sound disinterested but his mouth had gone dry. His eyes never left hers as slowly, deliberately, she crossed her legs, drew up the heavy silk of her dress and tucked the banknote into her stocking top.

'Do you know what you're getting yourself into, love?' Michael said, the words coming out low and gruff and dangerous. The girl, Charlotte (or at least that's what he thought her name was) stood up and crossed over to him. 'Nothing I can't handle' came her reply as he grasped her shoulder and pulled her down for a deep, slow, searching kiss that left her gasping, awkwardly straddling his lap. The girl definitely wasn't some blushing virgin - at least not judging by the way her mouth yielded to his, her hips grinding down against his thigh. A sharp nip to her pouting, spit-slick bottom lip drew out a sharp gasp and a sighing moan. His hands searched her body, sliding down her slender neck and over the elegant shoulders, feeling her breasts straining against the expensive fabric of her pretty dress, her nipples tightening against his fingers as she writhed in his lap, her breath coming in pants against his ear as he roughly shoved her dress up to touch her smooth warm thighs above her stocking tops, grazing her knickers but not quite giving her what she wanted so badly. With a sharp slap to the vulnerable skin of her arse, he pushed her away gently and stood, adjusting his trousers (now straining uncomfortably in his sharply fitted trousers).

'Follow me' he managed to rasp out, grabbing her wrist and practically dragging her through the labyrinthine corridors of Tommy's country pile, stopping every so often to shove her up against oak panelled walls and whisper terrible, dirty things in her ear between crushing kisses. She couldn't get enough of him, tearing at his shirt and fumbling at his belt, only being able to articulate moans and sighs in answer to his questions until he found a door leading to an empty laundry room where she sank down to the cold tiled floor in front of him. He took her in, previously perfectly coiffed hair coming undone, cheeks flushed and pupils blown from the cocaine. It was delicious, her swollen lips and messy hair juxtaposed with that scandalously expensive silk dress and her breath catching in her throat as she gazed up at him hungrily.

'You really did want to play the whore, didn't you love?' he said with a chuckle as he undid his belt and his fly, freeing his erection 'why don't you show me what you can do darling?'. She'd make a fortune in a brothel in Small Heath with those big dark eyes and pretty little doll mouth he thought as she peppered his cock with tiny butterfly kisses, licking over the tip with her tongue like a kitten. 'No, love, no teasing. You do this properly for me or I'll walk you back into that wedding looking like the tupenny whore you are and leave you to explain why you look like you've just been dragged though a hedge backwards'. She nodded and took him into her mouth enthusiastically, bobbing her head back and forward, pushing further until he felt the back of her throat and she pulled back, spluttering and coughing. 'Easy' he murmured, pushing her hair back out of her eyes gently, rocking his hips slowly, gently fucking her mouth until she caught up with his rhythm and started to suck, still staring back up at him, moaning around his cock like she was loving every second.

Reaching down to help her up from the floor, he guided her towards the counter in the corner of the room, rumpling her dress up around her hips and tearing the delicate silk knickers away from her body and running his fingers over her neatly trimmed bush, finding where she was soaked and warm and pushing his fingers into her, rubbing his thumb against her clit as she spread her legs wider for him. Rasping into her ear he told her 'This is the wettest, tightest cunt I've ever felt in my life - I can't wait to taste you - lick you until the only word you know how to say is my name ... Am I rough enough for you? Do you want it harder?' He pulled his fingers out of her and licked his sticky fingers and leaned in to kiss her again, rough and aggressive, sharing the sweet-salty tang of her cunt on his tongue before kissing down her throat and pushing his face between her wet thighs and kissing her, slowly and gently at first, as she softly gasped and twined her fingers in his hair but soon giving way to sucking her clit like a starved man at a banquet table as he thrust his fingers into her again, tearing louder and louder moans from her mouth until she came with a sob and a shudder, nearly tearing his hair out as her hips twitched against his face and the room was filled with the musky smell of sex and sweat mingling with the scent of the fresh towels they had just ruined.

He let her catch her breath before turning his attention to his own arousal, hard and throbbing between his legs. He turned her around and gently grasped her lily white neck in his broad calloused hand, unzipping her dress so he could reach in with the other hand to fondle her tits, full and high and firm, nipples pebbled hard. 'Are you ready sweetheart? Bend over for me, just a little. Yeah that's perfect ... Are you a virgin?' She shook her head, pupils huge and sweat glistening on her collarbone 'Nah, I didn't think so love. Do you want me to fuck you?' He was poised at her entrance just teasing her up and down her soaking slit with his cock. She nodded frantically, trying to push back on his dick like a bitch on heat 'Use your words, ask me nicely - and I might give you that seeing to you obviously need' his voice dripped with smugness and superiority at having this rich little slut practically begging for it - he could probably have her begging him to shove it up her tight little arse by the end of the evening, he thought.

'Please' she whispered, her voice coming out sounding wrecked and raspy 'please, I need it - I need you to fuck me, Michael ... Please' and with that the last shreds of his willpower left him and he pushed into her in one smooth thrust, revelling in the stranglehold tightness of her insides, grunting as he pulled back out and slowly bottomed out again, speeding up until the only noise breaking the silence of below stairs was her breathy moans and squeals, she soft squelchy noises from her soaked pussy, the rhythmic slap of his balls against her clit and the snap of his hips against her arse. He slapped her flank and felt her tighten around him, gripping him tighter than he ever thought possible, like she was trying milk the cum straight out of him, and carried on frenziedly spanking her, watching the flawless porcelain skin of her arse turn the prettiest shade of pink he'd ever seen. She whined when he pulled out of her to turn her around to face him as he shoved her up against the wall and slid straight back home, sucking vivid purple marks into the unblemished skin of of her shoulders, speeding up as he felt his orgasm approaching and feeling the approach of hers, her moans getting higher in a crescendo, the words she was murmuring in his ear making little sense beyond 'fuck' and 'Michael' and the noises she was making were driving him insane and he could feel his orgasm about to hit him like a brick fucking wall ...

Until they heard a gunshot piercing the would be quiet of downstairs. Michael knew Tommy had business to attend to today, he wasn't surprised at the evening ending with bloodshed, but he didn't want to frighten the girl so he stilled inside her, reassuring her that it was just a car backfiring, rocking slowly inside her until she began to rock her hips back and forth to meet him, urging him to speed up, begging him to fuck her harder, and he did, one hand at her throat, threatening to push down and cut off her breath but not quite choking her, the other gripping her arse, groping at the warmed flesh as her nails raked at his back, tearing at the skin - he'd have war wounds of his own later, but nothing compared to the marks he'd left on her, she screamed when she came, setting off his own blinding orgasm, teeth sinking into her shoulder to muffle his groan, all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as he pushed into her with a last thrust and emptied his balls inside her with a ferocity that blew even him away. He slumped against her, both of them a sweaty, shaking heap.

'You shouldn't have finished inside me' she told him eventually when she had regained her capacity for speech.

'You didn't really leave me with any other option love, you're stronger than you look and you didn't want my cock anywhere but inside you' he said, grinning as he sorted himself out.

She looked a state, her hair was a bird's nest and the blooms of his love bites that littered her neck and shoulders stood out starkly against her pale skin. She smelt of cum and washing powder and sweat and he seriously doubted the creases would ever come out of her dress. 'So, sweetheart, tell me ... am I as bad as you thought my cousins were? Did you like your little walk into the dark side?'

She looked him up and down critically. 'You're a bad, bad man, Michael Gray - but you're very good at what you do, I'll give you that'

'C'mon love, we'll find a maid who can sort you out a bit, maybe we can find a spare dress - I'll say I spilt my drink on you, after all we've got bright futures ahead, you and I, can't be messing that up for a quick fuck and a night of playing the gangster's whore now, can we?' He said with a charming smile and a beckoning gesture, lighting a cigarette on his way out of the door.

She nodded in agreement and tottered after him on stiff legs, idly thinking that being a gangster's whore wouldn't be a bad way to make a living.


End file.
